Refugee

It's Morning, Jesus
You are all compassion.
I sat on the floor and ate rice last night
I broke bread with 20 refugees from Kurdistan.
After my prayer to you, they clapped, Lord Jesus
The new refugees and the old.
The old woman whose husband was killed, clapped
The three daughters in a strange land, clapped
Was it the sound of your name, Jesus?, that made them clap?
Was it the mercy of a land like ours, built on your truth, that made them clap?
Was it daily rice?
I pray, Lord Jesus,
That you are carving out a place inside of them
An inner temple of truth
A synagogue of faith
I pray that the mosque to the false God Allah
Will be revealed as an empty room filled with the echoes
Of man's eternal quest for truth
I pray, in Jesus, name, that they will see the salvation
of God's true love
That has already embraced them
And one day call out your name
As their personal savior.

Amen.